Find joy in the moments that aren't noticed.
They are the ones that contain the most meaning.
The best feeling in the world is to be amongst people who don't think about the downs.
People who don't care what life throws at them.
It is the best type of happiness.

As I sort through boxes of yesterday
I hear you whisper
But I do not answer
For I do not speak with spectres of plans that went awry
Or the ghosts of love not fully realized.

As I dig deeper more spirits of past disasters join the chorus of the broken hearted
But I do not add my voice to your song.
Yet when I sob I ask:
Do I cry for you?
Do I cry for them that came before you?
Or am I just crying for myself?

Question: Do I place these memories we shared on a mantel to be polished and admired?
Or do I pack them deep into a box not to be discovered until the next train wreck?

Photos and mementos are just snapshots of what might have been,
Who needs that reminder?

Where are you?
Are you sitting on the floor like me? Tears dropping unchecked as you write poor poetry?

No. I picture you sipping tea with a friend. Your laugh, always loud, resounding off the walls and finding it's way into the hearts of everyone who hears it. That is your gift.

This poem is my goodbye. It will be packed away with our other things.
Not forgotten, yet no longer a part of my life.

Goodbye.

We’re quick to blame those that break our hearts,
Railing against lovers for our misfortunes,
Consigning them to hell and so forth,

When in reality,
Our oft exhausted and defeated transgressors
Serve merely as the catalyst for the internal destruction that follows

For no one impacts your emotional wellbeing as much as you,
And you birth your demons, your pain,
After ‘us’ is no more,
There is just you and your head,
An entity far more dangerous than any borne of flesh and blood

Do not judge those that hurt you,
For they are as foolish and human as you,
And remember that though
Love may linger and torment,
It is a reminder of what your heart can do,
When it’s met its match